by R. L. Stine
“Okay, Bernie,” he said. “How do the toes feel?”
I wiggled them. “Like new,” I said. “Thank you! You can put on my shoes and socks now.”
The toes felt so good, I went for a walk around the campus. Sometimes walking helps me think.
It was a clear, warm night. As I crossed the little bridge over the water, the moonlight reflected like silver in Pooper’s Pond.
And in the light, I recognized two figures on the other side of the pond. They were walking near R.U. Dumm Field, our football field.
Mr. Skruloose. And my half-human friend Beast.
Why were they hanging out together? I slid behind a tree where I could watch them.
Beast was crouched down on all fours. Not unusual. Sometimes he walks like that for days.
Mr. Skruloose had a hand on Beast’s shoulder. Suddenly, he shouted, “Go get him, soldier! GO!”
Beast let out a low growl. Then he took off, running on all fours—chasing a squirrel!
“Go! Go, soldier! Go!” Mr. Skruloose cheered him on.
Beast growled and grunted as he rumbled over the grass. The poor squirrel didn’t stand a chance.
“YES!” Mr. Skruloose pumped his fists in the air when Beast caught the squirrel in his teeth. “Yes! Yes! VICTORY!”
Beast let the squirrel go. He never knew what to do with them after he caught them. He turned to Skruloose with a big grin on his face. He still had some fur caught in his teeth.
Skruloose patted him on the back.
He LIKES Beast! I realized.
That started the Bernie B. brain buzzing. I was thinking hard—so hard, I started to sweat. In a flash I had Plan B.
Why does Mr. Skruloose like Beast? Because he’s fierce. Ferocious. Because he’s gung ho, a good soldier.
What if we all act gung ho? What if we all act like soldiers?
Then Mr. Skruloose will like us. And he’ll stop being so strict. He’ll lighten up and stop being The Teacher from Heck.
Sure, it was a crazy idea. But it was definitely worth a try….
Chapter 15
YUMMY TREE BARK
I started Plan B the next night. I gathered all the guys in the Study Hall downstairs. The chairs were covered in cobwebs. Most of us had never seen the Study Hall.
“What are we doing here, Bernie?” Feenman asked.
“Wait. Just wait,” I said, watching the door. I waited until Mr. Skruloose was nearby.
“Okay, soldiers, listen up!” I shouted. “We’re doing our math homework. Crench—multiplication tables. Go!”
“Uh…okay,” Crench muttered. “I—”
“You forgot to salute,” I said. “Next time you forget…thirty push-ups!”
Crench saluted.
“Go. Start multiplying, soldier!” I barked.
“Well…uh…four times four is eleven. Four times five is twelve. Four—”
“Did you forget something, soldier?” I cried. “Did you forget to say sir?”
“Sorry, sir,” Crench said. He saluted again.
I peered into the hall and saw that Mr. Skruloose had a big smile on his face. He was totally into it! He liked it!
“Feenman, go! Multiply!” I ordered.
“Yes, sir!” Feenman gave me a long salute. “Four times six is twenty. Four times seven—”
“It’s okay. You can stop,” I said. “Skruloose is gone.”
We all breathed long sighs of relief.
“Bernie, this is crazy,” Feenman said. “We’re not soldiers. We’re kids. We can’t act like soldiers all the time.”
“Yes, we can—when Skruloose is watching,” I said. “You should have seen the smile on his face. He was eating it up!”
“But it hurts my head to salute so much,” Feenman said.
“Try doing it more softly,” I told him. “And don’t use your fist next time. Just use two fingers.”
“I’ll try that,” Feenman said, rubbing his forehead.
I saw Mr. Skruloose return. “Okay, soldiers!” I shouted. “Attention! Stand at attention. We meet at the front door tomorrow morning at 0800 hours, and we—”
“What does that mean? 0800?” Belzer asked. “I can’t find that on my watch, Bernie.”
“Eight o’clock, soldier!” I said. “We’ll march to class. I want everyone in a perfect single file. That will be all!”
Everyone saluted. Feenman punched himself in the head again. He just couldn’t get it.
Mr. Skruloose flashed me a thumbs-up as I headed to the front stairs.
Bernie, you’re a genius! I told myself. If only my arm was long enough to pat myself on the back!
The next morning I gathered all the Rotten House dudes in a straight line at 0800 hours, and I marched them across the Great Lawn to class.
“Left, right! Left, right!” I called out. “Feenman, stand up straight! Chipmunk, stop staring at the ground.”
“But, Bernie,” Chipmunk whined, “the sun’s in my eyes!”
I saw Skruloose hurrying toward us. “Move, soldiers!” I commanded. “Left, right! Left, right! Double speed! March!”
“Halt!” I cried. They stopped, tripping and stumbling over one another.
I turned to Mr. Skruloose. “Just trying to shape them up, sir,” I said. “We want you to be proud of us.”
Skruloose rubbed his chin. “Hmm. You’ve given me a great idea, soldier,” he said.
I saluted him again. “All of your ideas are great, sir,” I said. “That’s why we guys want to be just like you.”
Mr. Skruloose nodded. “Well, since you like the military way so much,” he said, “you and your guys can form a drill team.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? A what?”
“A drill team,” Skruloose said. “You’ll learn to march together. Right face. Left face. Forward. Back. You’ll love it.”
He slapped me on the back. “Everyone up before the sun every morning. Onto the practice field. Two hours of drills every morning before breakfast.”
I choked. “Before breakfast? But, sir, I have breakfast in bed every morning. It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”
Mr. Skruloose didn’t hear me. He slapped me on the back again. “Yes. A drill team. Two hours of marching across the field every morning. Thanks for the great idea, Bridges.”
“Please don’t thank me, sir,” I muttered.
“And you’ve given me another idea,” he said.
Uh-oh.
“I’m putting your whole dorm on a special tree-bark diet,” Skruloose said. “Tree bark three times a day. To toughen you up!”
He marched away.
I turned to my friends. “I know, I know,” I said. “Plan C.”
Chapter 16
“PASS THE TREE BARK?”
A few nights later I lay in bed, thinking…thinking. I was desperate now. I knew none of us could survive much longer.
Through my open window, I could hear my poor dog, Gassy, out in the cold. Coughing his head off from all that fresh air.
And what was that other alarming sound? It was my stomach growling, from eating only tree bark. Tree bark three times a day. Raw—not even cooked!
My stomach rumbled and grumbled. Every muscle in my body ached from two hours of drill practice every morning. My head ached, too, from four hours of homework.
And there was no time to get our revenge on Sherman Oaks. He was still bragging to everyone that he’d won the Water War.
This had to stop. Skruloose had to go.
Okay, dudes. Plan C.
Headmaster Upchuck has a tiny, red brick house next to the School House. He and his wife live upstairs. His office is downstairs.
The next morning I made my way to Upchuck’s house. Could I talk him into getting rid of Skruloose? I had to try.
“My door is always open.”
That’s what Headmaster Upchuck always says. “If you have a problem, come see me. My door is always open.”
So I walked up to the white
front door. Sure enough, a sign above the door read: MY DOOR IS ALWAYS OPEN.
I tried the doorknob and pushed. Then I pulled.
The door was locked.
I read the sign again. I knocked on the door, softly at first, then with pounding fists.
“Who’s there?” Headmaster Upchuck called.
I saw an eye peek out of the little, round peephole. Then I heard him groan. “Oh, no. Please tell me it isn’t you again!”
“Yes, it’s me. Good morning, sir,” I said brightly. “May I come in?”
A long silence. Then he said, “Would you believe there’s no one here?”
“No,” I said. “I see your eye peeping out at me. And I can hear you.”
“Oh. Okay. Well…can you slip it under the door, Bernie?”
“No, sir. I need to talk to you, sir,” I said. “If you could open the door…?”
“I put a lot of locks on the door, Bernie,” he said. “You know. To keep you out in case you ever came back here.”
“Well, I’m back, sir,” I said. “I’d love to see your handsome face again. It always inspires me, sir. And I need to talk to you about something important.”
“I was afraid of that,” Headmaster Upchuck said. “What if I begged you to go away, Bernie? Would that work?”
“No, sir,” I said.
The Headmaster’s eye disappeared from the peephole. Then I heard click-click-click. The sound of twenty locks being unlocked.
The door swung open. I gazed down at the little guy.
“Thank you, sir,” I said. “You’re looking good today. Is that a new sweater? I like it! They have some great new styles in the little boys’ department—don’t they? I won’t take up your time, sir. I just have a quick question.”
The Headmaster sighed. “The last time you had a ‘quick question’, it cost me a fortune. I had to build a hot tub for the boys in your dorm.”
“They were desperate, sir,” I replied. “They couldn’t relax without it, sir. It saved their lives. We’re so grateful. We named it after you, sir. The Upchuck Tub.”
Upchuck shook his head. He was speechless.
“May I come in, sir?” I asked.
“No, Bernie. Stand back,” he said. “You can’t see it, but I put an electric fence across the doorway. To keep you out. Take two steps forward, and you’ll be fried.”
“I see, sir. Very clever,” I said. “Well, perhaps I could talk to you right here. You see, it’s about Mr. Skruloose, sir.”
The Headmaster clenched his teeth. “What about him?”
“He’s treating us like soldiers, sir,” I said. “He’s cruel. He’s heartless. He’s a maniac.”
Headmaster Upchuck smiled. “He is?”
“Yes, sir. He makes us march for two hours every morning. He makes us run laps around the dorm. He makes us do push-ups in class. He feeds us nothing but tree bark!”
Upchuck burst out laughing. “That’s wonderful!” he cried. He jumped up and down happily. “Wonderful news. The man knows how to do his job! He’s a genius! Thanks for brightening my day, Bernie!”
“Yes, sir!” I said, and I gave the Headmaster a salute. “We love it, sir. It’s just what we need!”
“Huh?” Upchuck’s smile vanished. His whole body sank.
“We need the discipline, sir,” I said. “We need the hard work. We love having a teacher who whips us into shape!”
Upchuck’s tiny eyes bulged. “You…you DO? You love it?”
“Please don’t ever take him away from us, sir,” I said. “We need him, sir. The guys all love him. If you brought Mrs. Heinie back, it would be a punishment. A terrible punishment.”
Upchuck rubbed his chin. I could see he was thinking hard. “It would be a punishment?” he asked. “Really?”
“Really,” I said. “A terrible punishment.”
“Thanks for telling me, Bernie.” He closed the door in my face. I could hear him chuckling through the door. I recognized that evil chuckle.
“Yes!” I whispered, pumping my fists into the air. “Yesss! Bernie B., you’re still a genius!”
I hurried back to Rotten House. Feenman and Crench were finishing breakfast.
“Want some tree bark, Bernie?” Crench asked. “I saved you some soft pieces.”
“Forget the tree bark,” I said. “We’ll all be eating peanut-butter pie again real soon.” I grinned my famous grin at them. “Check your watches, dudes. Trust your leader. Life will be sweet again by tomorrow morning!”
Chapter 17
SAD NEWS
Mr. Skruloose barked out the rhythm as he marched us across the field. “Stand up straight, soldiers! We had to march in total darkness. The sun wasn’t up yet. My stomach growled. My legs ached. But I was happy. I had a smile on my face.
I kept checking my watch. I knew what would happen next.
And, yes, here he came. Headmaster Upchuck, trotting across the grass, his gray suit jacket flapping behind him.
“Soldiers, halt!” Mr. Skruloose shouted as the Headmaster ran up to us. We all stopped, breathing hard, drenched in sweat.
Upchuck saluted Mr. Skruloose. Then he turned to us. “Boys, I have sad news,” Upchuck said.
I stepped forward. “Sir, may we keep marching?” I said. “We love to march. Marching for two hours is the best part of our day.”
Skruloose picked me up and dropped me back with the other guys. “Be quiet, Bridges,” he said. “Let the Headmaster get a word in.”
“Of course, sir,” I said, saluting. “See, Headmaster Upchuck? See how we love it when Mr. Skruloose gives us orders? Do you think maybe we could march for three hours today?”
Upchuck cleared his throat and pulled himself up to his full three-foot height. “Sorry, boys. Bad news. Mr. Skruloose is too good to be wasted on you Rotten House bums.”
“Yes, he’s brilliant, sir,” I said. “That’s why we need him. That’s why we’d follow him anywhere.” I saluted again.
Upchuck turned to me. “Thank you, Bernie, for telling me how brilliant Mr. Skruloose is. Because of that, I’m taking him away from Rotten House—and from the fourth grade. And I’m naming him Assistant Headmaster!”
Whoa. I hadn’t planned on that. But, okay. As long as Skruloose was out of Rotten House…
I had to make sure. I dropped to my knees and started to beg. “Please, sir, don’t take him away from us. We don’t want him to leave.”
Upchuck chuckled. “If you want him, Bernie, I have no choice. Say good-bye to him.”
“Good-bye!” we all shouted at once.
Mr. Skruloose gave us a long salute. “Keep eating that tree bark, soldiers,” he said. “You look tougher already. I’ll miss you guys.”
He started walking away with Headmaster Upchuck.
“We won’t forget you, sir,” I called. “Can we help you pack your bags? We know you’ll want to hurry—won’t you, sir?”
We didn’t start celebrating—laughing and cheering and high-fiving and slapping knuckles and hooting and rolling around on the grass—until the two of them were out of sight.
Chapter 18
WHO WINS THE WATER WAR?
The next morning I awoke with a smile. Sunlight poured through my window. Belzer came in humming, carrying my breakfast tray.
“I didn’t know if you wanted eggs or French toast,” he said.
“Just put the eggs on top of the French toast,” I said. “Pour the syrup on gently…gently. Just a drizzle. Did you take the pulp out of my orange juice?”
“Of course,” he said. “I strained it twice, and I drank half of it—just to make sure.” He set the tray on my lap.
“A beautiful day!” I said. “No marching. No tree bark.”
I hugged Gassy. He was tucked under the covers next to me. I slipped him a slice of bacon. He burped in my face—his cute way of saying thanks.
Feenman and Crench came bursting in. Feenman made a grab for my French toast. I had to stab him with my fork to keep him away.
&
nbsp; “How great is this?” Crench cried. “No more tree bark. Skruloose is gone, and everything is back to normal!”
I handed the tray to Belzer and climbed out of bed. “One more thing to do,” I said. “Finish the Water War.”
“Huh? Finish it?” Crench said.
“I invited Sherman over here,” I said. “To congratulate him on his victory.”
They stared at me. “Bernie, have you totally lost it?” Feenman asked.
“Sherman’s victory will last until he reaches the eighth step,” I said. “I rigged up the water balloon in the ceiling again. When he reaches the eighth step, I pull the rope. Sploosh. Sherman sinks under ten gallons of cold water. We win—big-time.”
“Brilliant!” Belzer said. “Then everything will be back to normal!”
I heard footsteps from downstairs. “He’s here!” I whispered. “Feenman—quick. Get your camera. I want to e-mail this photo to everyone in school!”
Feenman disappeared into his room. The rest of us hurried out into the hall. I leaned over the banister and gazed down the stairs. “Shh. Quiet, dudes. Here he comes.”
Feenman raised his camera.
“Wait for it. Wait for it….” I whispered.
I grabbed the rope. I counted and listened to Sherman’s heavy shoes clomp up the stairs.
“Wait for it…wait…NOW!”
I tugged the rope hard. The camera flashed.
I heard a startled scream. The splash of cold water.
He hit the floor. He made a choked sound.
“YESSS!” I cried, jumping up and down. “Yesss! A direct hit! Bull’s-eye!”
My buddies jumped to their feet, cheering, clapping, and laughing their heads off.
We all touched knuckles. Then we did the secret Rotten House Handshake.
I heard the gurgling sound again.
I turned and gazed down the stairwell.
“Uh-oh—!” I gasped in horror. Then I gasped again.
“Mrs. Heinie?” I called. “Mrs. Heinie? You’re back? Welcome back, Mrs. Heinie. What a surprise. I can explain! Really! I can explain!”